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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23095795">Rush Into Danger</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchantedlightningwrites/pseuds/enchantedlightningwrites'>enchantedlightningwrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies &amp; Secret Agents, Angst, Banter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Expect fluff too, Gen, M/M, Sambucky Bingo 2019, Slow Burn, but not too much, expect a few surprises</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:47:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,566</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23095795</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchantedlightningwrites/pseuds/enchantedlightningwrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes decided to go into the agency, taking a different job from his ordinary life. There he meets Sam Wilson, and sparks collide between them. Sam goes in, hoping to make an extra amount of difference for everyone. </p><p>They couldn't possibly be any more different, despite sharing a common ally. </p><p>When a mission calls for someone to protect some valuables... Sam and Bucky are assigned to work together. And neither of them will leave it, the same.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanov &amp; Sam Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Whew!! This fic is going carry tons of heavy topics... about mental health... if you don't like those, you can steer clear! Both of them will be given the right amount of angst about themselves, so it's not just about Sam or just Bucky. It's about the two of them, and it will be emphasized. Ooh, and "Only Between Us" by Mila Ferriera loosely inspired the jobs, these two got in this universe or Earth. Some characters will make cameos in this chap and the following ones. Happy reading!</p><p>P.S: This fic fills the square Secret Agent AU in my card.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>JUNE 13, 2016</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>MANHATTAN, NEW YORK</strong>
</p>
<p>The blinds of the window allowed the evening sun to spill, some of its remaining light.</p>
<p>The person turned in their chair, before directing their eyes in front. Two chairs were at the two corners of the blue, minimalist room.</p>
<p>Two different cactus's laid across the coffee table, and a bonsai tree stood near the sofa. It remained as a symbol for growth, and if he were honest, he liked that.</p>
<p>Just as his fellow co-workers did.</p>
<p>"You've been having good progress, so far," Bucky informed, leaning back on his chair. "Your meds? Has it been helping you?"</p>
<p>The teenage girl sat in the white sofa, clasping on her scarf.</p>
<p>Her auburn hair fell over her pale face, and she crossed her slim arms over her little figure.</p>
<p>Resting his elbows on his desk, he grimaced.</p>
<p>He had three clients each week, always keeping track on them. This girl was no different. And she was struggling with an eating disorder.</p>
<p>Something, he never dealt with. But that was why he did this job.</p>
<p>"Yeah, Dr. Barnes," Edrie answered, her voice small.</p>
<p>Bucky bopped his head to the side, with a little grin. "And did your eating habits has improved?"</p>
<p>"My trainer, Miss Romanoff, has been helping with my meals."</p>
<p>He arched a brow, slowly rising from his seat.</p>
<p>"Great. How's your relationships with your family?"</p>
<p>Edrie took a deep breath.</p>
<p>"It's pretty okay, but my dad's getting frustrated with how I still let this happen to me. He says I should just not puke to lose the disorder."</p>
<p>Anger stirred in him, as he rested a hand on the table. If he didn't like one thing about his part-time job was, listening to clients tell about how people, who were supposed to support them, fail to understand the nature of mental illnesses.</p>
<p>He knew what it felt like.</p>
<p>"Then I suggest to stay low for a while. If he doesn't try to support you, try your mom or your friends. Brianna's one of your friends still, right?"</p>
<p>"Yeah. But she's swamped with school."</p>
<p>"When do you plan on returning to that academy of yours?"</p>
<p>"Maybe next month. I'm not sure, if the principal will allow me to be in, after missing so many lessons."</p>
<p>Edrie fidgeted with her ribbon, her finger running along its length.</p>
<p>"What kind of lessons, are you taking?"</p>
<p>"Art. I'm planning to be a painter, as soon as I graduate."</p>
<p>An idea found its way through his head. He often encouraged his clients to invest their time in something, which will be able to allay their pain or situation.</p>
<p>He had something to keep his pain at bay.</p>
<p>"Hmm, what's the name of the school again?" Bucky asked, rubbing his chin.</p>
<p>"Ruston Academy of the Arts," Edrie answered, with a fleeting smile. "It's really good, Doc. Every time, I'm there, I get to escape from the real world. It helps that the teacher's supportive."</p>
<p>Ah. He heard the slight bad rep about the school from the parents. But when he had listened to them, he didn't find it reasonable.</p>
<p>So, a school that lets its students be different from their parents, was a bad thing?</p>
<p>He had friends, fair weather ones, who let go of what they wanted, all because no one wanted them to pursue it.</p>
<p>And doubt crushed it, too.</p>
<p>The time set off, then he got out of his chair. He walked towards Edrie, offering his hand.</p>
<p>"Your time's up," Bucky informed, slightly lying. He had something to catch up with. "We'll meet again, next week. Okay?"</p>
<p>Edrie took his hand in her thin one, shaking it. For a sixteen year old, she seemed surprisingly kinda strong.</p>
<p>She bowed her head. "Thank you, Dr. Barnes. And for the trainer, too. She's been really helpful."</p>
<p>Bucky smiled brightly. He liked Nat, as a friend and co-worker. They used to be batch-mates, back in college. They turned separate paths after, only to meet each other again in Livin' and Dinin'. A very popular restaurant in town.</p>
<p>"Glad, she is. Anyways, take care. Remember, nurture your body, instead of somebody's poor ass standards. Trust me, they aren't worth that pain."</p>
<p>Edrie chuckled, which sounded like a tinkle.</p>
<p>"It's going to stick in my mind, doc." Edrie headed to the door. "I'll see you, next week. You take care, too."</p>
<p>Bucky smiled again, appreciating her concern. When he started this job, two years ago, he expected to be stressed with clients, who might have been difficult to deal with.</p>
<p>Instead, he had different clients, each of varying disorders. Even if he didn't have the same pain as them, he helped them to the very best of his ability.</p>
<p>
  <em>Come on, you're gonna be late. You can't miss this job.</em>
</p>
<p>By the time the door shut, he sighed. He whipped out his phone, re-checking his texts from one of his personal and secret friends.</p>
<p>
  <em>Check the garbage can, outside the building grounds. You'll be able to find a way.</em>
</p>
<p>With a shake of his head, he scoffed.</p>
<p>Since being a librarian and part-time therapist wasn't enough, Bucky accepted this offer of... escaping from his life.</p>
<p>It could be a good contribution with his time and skills. He had the skills to be in it, so why not take it up?</p>
<p>And it would provide some of that sweet excitement, he used to have, a decade ago.</p>
<p>Bucky took off his coat, placing it on his swirling chair. He picked up his bag and his keys, before walking out of his office. He locked it, done with a day's work.</p>
<p>"Hey, Barnes," Dr. Meli Gonzalez greeted from behind. "So, Marlton and I were having a drink with the rest. I'm wondering, if you wanna join?"</p>
<p>Bucky huffed, shaking his head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I have something really important up. I can't be late for it."</p>
<p>"Oh, I see!" Meli wiggled her brows. "Have fun, I'll see you at Monday!"</p>
<p>Do people around here, think he was always going on a date? Yeah, apparently.</p>
<p>"See you at Monday," he replied, nodding. Their hands waved, as they exchanged farewells.</p>
<p>He lowered his head, dashing towards the door. He pushed it open, while acknowledging some people in the way.</p>
<p>"Good evening, Barnes," one of the elderly therapists said. "Good day?"</p>
<p>"Yes, sir. Good evening to you, too."</p>
<p>He saluted to them, increasing his speed.</p>
<p>Continuing on his way, he ran to the back side of the building. Large, marble and gray, which stood over two-stories.</p>
<p>Miss Rogene Clemens owned the Counsel for Mental Health, or CMH, and he would be forever grateful, she offered him a position, when they met in the library.</p>
<p>He admired how they strive to help people with their struggles and their past. And he wished that he had went here, when he got struck with...</p>
<p>Nah, it wasn't important to think about it, at the moment.</p>
<p>He had dealt with that issue, a long time ago. It wouldn't resurface. Hopefully.</p>
<p>Panting, his footsteps began faltering. He found the silver garbage can in a tile, which looked normal.</p>
<p>What could possibly be beneath it?</p>
<p>Curious, he pushed the object aside. After that, he stood on the spot, planting his hands on his hips.</p>
<p>Hmm, where would they be by now?</p>
<p>Something shook and he winced. His body slightly swayed to the side, and he pressed a palm on the wall. The tile dispersed, giving way for a black space. He tried getting under control, until a cylinder tube floated below his feet.</p>
<p>Oh no. Why did they have to get an idea from an animated show?!</p>
<p>Bucky yelped, getting sucked in. He fell on his ass, sliding through the tunnel. He screamed for his life, holding onto his knees. He shut his eyes, planning on walking up to the person with this inane idea.</p>
<p>It might have been awesome, if...</p>
<p>He couldn't finish his thoughts, when he landed on something... comfy. His fingers brushed against the fabric of a spring mattress, and he slowly got up.</p>
<p>A figure sauntered towards him, and he adjusted his bag.</p>
<p>"Hello, Mr. Barnes," a faux British voice murmured, being shrouded by the shadows. "Please, take a seat. I believe, you've enjoyed the ride?"</p>
<p>Bucky's mouth tightened. "Not really. I'd appreciate it, if you gave the address, instead of trying to take ideas from a show. Which, by the way, had a clever way of turning accessories into gadgets."</p>
<p>The voice chuckled, and he could see their head tilted.</p>
<p>"Now, we just have a recent case, just in," the voice informed, revealing a file. "And we will open it, once the other arrives."</p>
<p>Bucky's eyes widened, while a chair got materialized beside a table.</p>
<p>Okay, what? What did she mean by <em>the other?</em></p>
<p>"And who could that be?" Bucky asked, his voice heightened by curiosity. He crossed his arms.</p>
<p>She simply chuckled. "You'll see. They will be a marvelous surprise."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Just swish your brush a little," he murmured, watching the student move it across the canvas, none too gently. "No, not like that."</p>
<p>"Are you sure, it's not the size of the paintbrush?" Joleni snapped her head upwards.</p>
<p>Sam shook his head. "Don't paint that way, it will make the object appear coarse. You need to use your brush with patience. The size doesn't matter, unless you're trying to paint smaller objects."</p>
<p>Joleni huffed, poking the brush with more paint. He examined the harsh purple shades, which twisted some of his insides.</p>
<p>She could have been less brusque with the brushwork, he thought. It looked as if she was trying to fail the class on purpose.</p>
<p>Sam didn't like giving failing grades. Plus, the school valued creativity and talent. So, as much as a few students could be difficult, he always tried being cooperative.</p>
<p>Even if some students weren't.</p>
<p>"Mr. Wilson!" Another student called, stepping back from their work. "Is this okay?"</p>
<p>Shuffling to his feet, he sauntered towards Kaleen, who held up their paintbrush. His eyes scanned the landscape canvas that depicted a gritty cityscape. The buildings were marred with dark and sharp shades of black and gray, almost symbolizing some sort of hopelessness.</p>
<p>He blinked away some violent onslaught of grief.</p>
<p>"It's really good," Sam commented, planting his hands on his hips. "Looks like, you're developing your own kind of style. I like it, even with how... melancholic it is."</p>
<p>"Gee, thanks, Mr. Wilson!" Kaleen grinned, dipping their brush in the gray water paint. "Your techniques helped me, a lot. You use more oils, right?"</p>
<p>Sam chuckled, and sighed. "Nah. I paint with acrylic, because it's a less difficult medium. Oils aren't my thing."</p>
<p>He tried using oils in graduate school, but the smell always put him off. He associated it with memories, he didn't want to bring up.</p>
<p>"I do get that, Teach," Carlia replied, grazing her brush at a blank circle.</p>
<p>The sky darkened outside the rectangular, glass windows. His work doesn't finish until the sun sets, so it might be a few minutes, before he could leave.</p>
<p>"Ah, there you are!"</p>
<p>Sam turned his attention to the door, and raised his brows.</p>
<p>"Hey, Shar. You leavin', already?"</p>
<p>The white blonde's lips tilted into a tiny smirk.</p>
<p>"Yeah. The class and I are going to be heading to Broadway, to watch Hamilton."</p>
<p>Sam's eyes popped wide. "Really? How amazing! I've been trying to get a ticket for the show, but it sold out, before I could leave the queue. You have hundreds students, so how did you even get that much tickets?"</p>
<p>"I went in line, yesterday morning," Sharon explained, sounding smug. "The seller stared at me with shock, when I asked for the tickets. I'm sure the show's worth my money."</p>
<p>"You bet it should be."</p>
<p>Sharon was one of Sam's fellow co-teachers. There were eight teachers working in Ruston Academy for different types of creativity and talent.</p>
<p>Sharon was the theater teacher, so she had always been lucky to score tickets for a Broadway show.</p>
<p>Summer hit up, last week, and most people would be buying tickets for a musical or a show. It must have been hard for her to scoop up the tickets, when she could.</p>
<p>Sam worked as an art teacher for the past five years, and loved his job. Loved seeing different sorts of artistic potentials within his students.</p>
<p>His family always supported him with his dream, and he couldn't hate his job.</p>
<p>It was much better than... he didn't want to complete the thought.</p>
<p>Sam patted his co-teacher in the back. She smiled, patting him too.</p>
<p>"You sure, you don't want to join us, Sam?" Sharon asked, tapping her pocket. "I've got some spare tickets, and I'm planning on inviting Sharon, Darcy, Miss Ruston, and Scott to go with me and the students."</p>
<p>"Nah, you go have fun," he declined, taking a step back.</p>
<p>He had secret plans, tonight, and he didn't want to miss it with a show.</p>
<p>"Oh, okay." Sharon nodded. "I'll see you, tomorrow. Later, Sam."</p>
<p>Sam waved. "Later, SharG. Enjoy the show."</p>
<p>The blonde let out a laugh, which faded as soon as she took the route of the corridors.</p>
<p>Some of the students exchanged hushed words to each other, probably talking about the show. Almost seventy-percent of the non-theater kids envied the theater class for going out to watch a musical.</p>
<p>Just last winter, most of them exploded when they went to 'Wicked'. And when the holidays came along, they bought tickets and watched the show.</p>
<p>Sam, himself, given in to it, despite his initial worries about the money in his pocket. But it wasn't tight, so he didn't regret.</p>
<p>In fact, he was saving up for Ham. Let's just say, he wanted to go there, after dealing with the secret meeting that would turn into a secret task.</p>
<p>Outside of his 'ordinary' life.</p>
<p>If Sam was lucky, he would bring them to a musical or non-school art show.</p>
<p>The school would be hosting its annual art festival in two weeks. So, he would be busy with choosing what paintings, they would be displaying. Miss Ruston had yet to assign a theme for it.</p>
<p>Last year, it had been Dadaism, and every student tried something out for it.</p>
<p>His students had been asking for the Renaissance art theme, since the new school year began.</p>
<p>Sam didn't know what he could choose between a toss of pop art or surrealism.</p>
<p>He had always preferred pop art, since it always popped into his vision with the quirky style and vibrant choice of colors.</p>
<p>On the other hand, surrealism always gave him, a sharp, visceral effect. With the weird outstanding ideas and subtle mix of different shades.</p>
<p>The clock set off into a loud <em>ding! </em></p>
<p>All the students in the room groaned, as some dropped their paintbrushes or held it up.</p>
<p>If you're a student in this school, most never ever want to leave the class. Whether, it was art, dance, music, or theater, most would like the show to go on. Except for a certain teacher.</p>
<p>Banging his hands together, Sam swaggered into the center.</p>
<p>"Alright, guys, class is over," Sam announced, watching some of the students pick up their stuff. "Clean up the place, before you leave. Class Pres?"</p>
<p>A green-haired white girl peered up at him with a dorky grin. "Yeah, sir?"</p>
<p>"Mace, make sure no one gets to lose any of their things. We wouldn't want one of our supplies to go to waste, do we?"</p>
<p>The students shook their heads.</p>
<p>"No, sir!"</p>
<p>Sam chuckled, shaking his head. He put his paint and palette into his backpack, and zipped it. He lifted it off the floor, slapping a hand at the doorway.</p>
<p>"Okay, everyone. See ya, tomorrow!"</p>
<p>In an un-harmonized chorus, they all replied, "You too, Sam!"</p>
<p>Some of the students fell into steps beside and behind him. He raised a palm out, receiving a few high fives, and curled it when he got fist bumps.</p>
<p>Damn it, being a teacher felt good. Working and cooperating with several students made his job, a great thing.</p>
<p>Sam picked his phone up, and re-read a text sent by Nat.</p>
<p>
  <em>Just go to the plant pot. That's how you can get it.</em>
</p>
<p>After the screen went dark, Sam frowned. There were a lot of different potted plants around the campus of the Academy. He should have asked for a clarification, because now he would be a crazy fool, to rummage at the bunch of plants.</p>
<p>Plus, Sharon worked on them. He couldn't ruin it, just because he had a secret and important meeting.</p>
<p>Once his phone chimed again, he checked it.</p>
<p>
  <em>Just near outside the window of the music class. Also, good luck.</em>
</p>
<p>Thank her. Probably, when he got there, he would be able to see Nat.</p>
<p>He knew her since 2014, and occasionally worked with her as a sparring buddy. He liked her guts, and she liked his quick bird-like reflexes, and they became friends.</p>
<p>Nat also worked in the secret place, Sam would be going.</p>
<p>Speaking of secret place... outside the windows of the music room?</p>
<p>As he walked outside the building, he tried remembering which side where the music room would be.</p>
<p>Maybe some students were there with their teacher, and music was the most popular choice in Ruston Academy. With theater, art, and dance behind. In that specific order.</p>
<p>When he got to the siding with a high-trimmed window, he narrowed his eyes below.</p>
<p>The pot with the maple tree towered over him by a feet, and he planted his hands on his hips. Hmm, maybe that was the wrong way.</p>
<p>Just as Sam pivoted on his heel, a hole appeared from the wall, and a gust of air tried swallowing him. Grabbing on the branch, he let out a scream.</p>
<p>And the sound of his plea left, as he got inside the...</p>
<p>What the f**k?! C'mon, Nat!</p>
<p>Sam yelled some more, until an entrance opened. He slipped out of it, and pressed his palms on the ground. He lifted his legs high, and heard a sound of praise.</p>
<p>"Ah, there he is!" A phony-sounding British accent announced. "Meet your new assigned partner! Mr. Sam Wilson!"</p>
<p>At that, Sam lost his balance. His legs stumbled on the hard floor, and he groaned.</p>
<p>Squeezing his eyes shut, he wondered that the next time, they would give him an address... they better not pull this shit again.</p>
<p>Like ever again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A meeting happens. Someone's not impressed and someone's not pleased.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I guess you can say it's... annoyed at first sight? I think. I tried hard, okay?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wait, what?” Another guy asked, sounding flat.</p><p>Sam sat up, slowly picking himself off the floor. He limped towards the nearest chair, and flopped down on it. He settled deep, taking a quick breath.</p><p>The boss was standing in the center of the room, dressed in a judge-like robe. She seemed to be below five feet and four inches, with a narrow figure, skin tone just a few shades lighter than his, and ethnically ambiguous features. Her auburn hair swished, as she averted her focus on him.</p><p>She smacked her hands together, as if she planned a devious scheme.</p><p>Hell no. Sam scanned the futuristic-ish room for his partner. His eyes landed on the white brunet sitting across the armchair, in front of him.</p><p>Humph. He seemed to be dressed like one of those pretentious punks in Oxford or something. He might have never faced some difficulty in his life or two.</p><p>In that nice-tailored gray coat and pants. Even his shoes reflected some surface. How could he not be the definition of a privileged person?</p><p>But the face... it seemed to be sculpted and chiseled by a Greek artist.</p><p>He had seen way too many sculptures to think, this man looked handsome. With dark brown hair, short on the sides and slightly longer on the top.</p><p>And f**k, his shadow did bring out the structure of his chee...</p><p>Forcing himself to look away, Sam stared at the boss. Maybe. He didn't want to be caught gawking at some guy, like he was some sorta damn painting.</p><p>
  <em>No, Sam, no. Do not waste art metaphors for this guy. Save it for something much better.</em>
</p><p>“Sam Wilson, meet your assigned teammate,” the woman said, inclining her head towards the man. “James Barnes. Now rise up, and shake hands, gentleman.”</p><p>Already so done with this shit, Sam got up from the chair. He leaned forward, stretching a hand to Barnes.</p><p>“Nice to meet you, James,” Sam said, plastering a smile.</p><p>Barnes took his hand in his, with a tight grip. Ugh, he had to have a fine physique too.</p><p>How wonderful.</p><p>"Pleasure's mine, Sam," Barnes replied, in a low voice.</p><p>They stopped shaking, and their heads whipped towards the boss.</p><p>“Excuse me, but can you please introduce yourself to us?” Sam asked. “Because my friend didn't tell me the name of the boss, so I've been kinda going crazy over that for a while.”</p><p>The woman giggled. “Yeah, sure! Okay, I'm Janelle O'Mahoney, the director of S. F. A, or Secure Federal Agency. I suppose Nat has disclosed some of the details to you, Wilson?”</p><p>She did. The agency was founded in 1958, after and had been one of the types to keep their statuses low-key. They recruited agents for obtaining data and information from cases, which could pose as threats to the world.</p><p>Mostly, they comprehend thieves with the agenda of stealing dangerous technology, or heirlooms of wealthy families. There had been more reasons but it was confidential.</p><p>But what Nat did <em>not</em> tell him, had been the case and partner assigned to him. And those couldn't be confidential.</p><p>Whatever. He would get over it.</p><p>"The basic, basic stuff about the agency's origin," Sam answered. "Why is there something, I should have known?"</p><p>“Don't worry.” Miss O'Mahoney grinned, a bit too impish. “You'll be able to adjust and navigate with us, just fine. You used to be a part of the Air Force, if I'm not mistaken?”</p><p>“That was only for five years.” Sam nodded. “I left after an accident.”</p><p>Not his own. Someone else's.</p><p>“Agent Barnes over here used to work with our sub-division organization,” Miss O'Mahoney informed, seriously. “Until he got... never mind. It's something for him to tell you. But I assure you, Wilson, you're in good hands.”</p><p>The way she phrased that made him slightly squirmed. Okay, maybe his partner couldn't be all that bad.</p><p>At least, his looks made up for the situation Nat had put Sam in? No?</p><p>Miss O'Mahoney led them to a room, with two red, leather chairs. It had a small gap, which he felt thankful for. They took a seat in each one, as a projector played at a screen on a tripod.</p><p>The mugshots of three Japanese people appeared, with a photo of a diamond below them.</p><p>“This is the Baishō family, one of the wealthiest families across the country. There had been three break-in attempts, these past three weeks.” Miss O'Mahoney tapped a button, changing the slide. “Now, we have three suspects, which includes Helmut Zemo, Georges Batroc, and Brock Rumlow.”</p><p>Hmm, he saw the famous family on the pages of a magazine and the news, a few times. Sometimes, there had been gossips about the youngest son and his exploits.</p><p>Sam didn't want to recall what those were.</p><p>A sudden jarring sound irritated him, as Sam cringed at the unpleasant noise.</p><p>“And their diamond, which had been around for four centuries from dynasty to dynasty, is told to be strong enough to create a laser beam. I'm not kidding. It could be as thin as a stick but it can be long enough to get to the moon.”</p><p>Miss O'Mahoney gestured by making a distance between her hands, as large as an upside down accordion.</p><p>“I thought that kind of stuff doesn't exist.” Sam crinkled his nose.</p><p>Miss O'Mahoney wagged a finger. “Nuh uh, thanks to Oscorp, it does exist. The suspects stole it from there, too. But other agents were assigned to that particular case.”</p><p>“Great. Just great,” Barnes murmured.</p><p>Sam could tell that the other guy wasn't looking forward to it, either. Unexpectedly, a corner of his lips quirked up at the idea.</p><p>“What I want you two to do,” Miss O'Mahoney said, turning to the next slide. “Is to work together to prevent some other jewels and other valuables from getting stolen. Capiche?”</p><p>Babysitting a bunch of other people's stuff? It sounded much easier than his days in the military. And it could have some thrills into it, so count him in.</p><p>Despite not exactly feeling warmed up to his partner.</p><p>“Got it,” Sam answered, granting a quick smile.</p><p>The other guy glimpsed at him, as if stunned, before he lifted his head high.</p><p>"Yeah, boss,” Barnes replied, getting up. “But there's this one question, I've been meaning to ask.”</p><p>“And that is?”</p><p>“When will we get started?”</p><p>Miss O'Mahoney chuckled. "Hon, the mission has just started since the two of you entered this building."</p><p><em>Yeah, on our asses</em>, he thought, wryly.</p><p>Sam raised a hand. “So, are we dismissed?”</p><p>“Yup. You two can leave, now.” Miss O'Mahoney waved dismissively at them.</p><p>Just as the two of them turned their backs on her and walked out the room, Sam sensed some business wasn't done. Yet.</p><p>“Wait!” Miss O'Mahoney called, going after them. “You two just go the H.Q, and patch things up. I'm sure, Miss Perrina will send some information about the task.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Sam gave a quick look, before walking again.</p><p>Barnes fell into step beside him, almost bumping into his shoulder.</p><p>“Do you mind, watching where you're going?” Barnes asked, gravelly.</p><p>“Fine.” Sam moved a few inches away, trying not to despise him. Really he didn't know this man, but his guts burned. “So, Barnes, what kind of skills, you got?”</p><p>“I'm an expert marksman, stealthy acrobat, and I'm excellent in deception,” Barnes answered, putting some shades over his eyes. “And you, Wilson?”</p><p>Sam raised his brows at that, crossing his arms.</p><p>“I'm a hacker, a good actor if I'm put on covert missions, expert combatant, acrobat, and expert tactician. I can plan a fast escape, if we ever get caught.”</p><p>“I guess, we just have one thing in common then?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>Barnes scratched his head.</p><p>“The whole “acrobat” thing.”</p><p>“I guess so.”</p><p>Not much of a talker, was he? He thought, his eyes down casted. Just as he almost tried to say something, he clamped his mouth shut.</p><p>Maybe he should savor the silence, for now. Otherwise, things could go from awkward to worse.</p><p>Sam caught a glimpse of metal, before Barnes pushed it down his pockets. Nat also kept her gadgets with her, at all times. When they got nearly assaulted by an unwanted stalker, she took them down with a pair of f**king scissors.</p><p>Even Percy Jackson couldn't be as quick as Natasha Romanoff, with his ordinary pen slash sword.</p><p>As they approached the steel doors, it opened for them. Several people were gathered over their own stations, and young black woman with brown locks was going towards them. She carried a folder in her hands, equipped with a tight grimace.</p><p>“Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barnes,” the woman murmured, holding her hand out. “I'm Agent Perrina, and I'll debrief the details for your mission.”</p><p>“Fire away,” Sam whispered.</p><p>The two of them nodded, when she pulled out a paper. She perched some reading glasses over her eyes. She looked a little too young to be this... serious.</p><p>Then again, being in an agency required some serious professional attitude.</p><p>“You'll be performing a recon in a gala hosted by Jeffery Wilcox in The NoMad,” Perrina informed. “You two may discuss more details in a time and place of your own choosing. I may warn you, you have three days before the mission starts.”</p><p>Shit. It was on a work day? He needed to find someone to cover up for him.</p><p>Maybe he could ask Nat. He used to ask her to take over his classes, whenever he had sick days. Plus, she was good at Origami, and Sam could never be that good at 3D art.</p><p>“When will we receive our equipment?” Barnes asked, slightly making Sam jump.</p><p>He didn't expect him to speak again, so it startled him. But he shouldn't be!</p><p>Perrina slid the paper down. “On Thursday. Don't worry, you won't need to hack or climb up the rooftops. You just need to locate our suspects, to figure out their next move.”</p><p>“That's reassuring,” Sam said. “Okay, thank you for telling us.”</p><p>“Should we exchange... phone numbers?” Barnes asked, sounding brusque.</p><p>“Yeah.” Sam fished his phone out of his pocket. “Text me the details of the place, you want me to meet you. My shift finishes every sunset, so I can’t see you in the morning.”</p><p>“Okay.” Barnes turned his phone on.</p><p>Barnes showed his number, then Sam typed it down and saved it in his contacts with his last name only. Truth be told, it might be changed in the future.</p><p>“See you, next time,” Sam mumbled, once he kept his phone back.</p><p>“You too, Wilson,” Barnes replied, before he left the room. “You too.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The path bumped a bit, as the cab drove down. He watched the buildings pass by through the windows.</p><p>Fixing his hair, he casted an inspection over his outfit.</p><p>He had worn his black leather jacket, his blue flannel shirt, and denim pants with brown oxfords.</p><p>He didn't want to give away his other profession, because people might think that they were spies. But he frowned at the thought.</p><p>Who on earth would think that someone in a fancy suit would be a spy? Maybe James Bond fans, but not the normies.</p><p>Maybe he was just being paranoid? Or maybe his nervousness was just making all of this difficult for him.</p><p>Bucky loathed the amount of confusing and intricate feelings towards his teammate.</p><p>In his eyes, he looked super gorgeous with that smooth facial structure with the thin marks of facial hair, and eyes that resembled an onyx.</p><p>Bucky had seen lots of attractive people in his life, but this man could top the list.</p><p>If he didn't feel the sizzling flames of annoyance.</p><p>And he disliked something about him, right after he smiled at him.</p><p>How he seemed so polite and nice in akin to those pure-hearted protagonists, which Bucky had read in his childhood. And those that never existed in the real world.</p><p>Steve, for all his good nature, didn’t exactly match the persona of those characters. Okay, he did, but that wasn’t the point.</p><p>He didn’t get it, so he ignored it.</p><p>Sam Wilson. He intimidated and irritated Bucky, right away. From his calm grace to thousand mega-watt smile, he sure made a good job of showing everyone how good-looking he was.</p><p>Okay, fine. If an ‘ooh, damn’ hadn't been floating in the back of his head, when he first saw him, Bucky would be a f**kin' liar.</p><p>The smile intimidated Bucky. He didn't understood why, but it did. It held this bubble of happiness, he had lost and couldn't find, anymore.</p><p>He didn't know much about this Sam Wilson, guy. He didn't look up, because he didn't want to be creepy about checking his statuses on Facebook, Twitter... whatever social media accounts, people had, these days.</p><p>Last night, after doing a check-up on a client with a major panic attack, he texted Wilson. About the place that they could meet in. He had sent a slight witty text back, Bucky scoffed at.</p><p>Fine, maybe he chuckled. A little.</p><p>That was because the effort felt lame.</p><p>And someone else would be meeting up with them, too. She would be talking about the mission, but Bucky hoped that she could be a buffer for him and his partner.</p><p>He didn't know what to say to Wilson, and some part (he couldn't name it) wanted to... know him more. He seemed friendly.</p><p>And Steve had been bugging him, about his social life for weeks. Steve may be a pain in the ass, sometimes, but he and Natasha were the only friends, he got.</p><p>The cab pulled up to a stop, and Bucky paid the driver. He got out, his eyes flinching at the bright signage.</p><p>Livin'and Dinin'. He frequented this place, since it had opened back in 2013. He went by himself in most visits, preferring not to be noticed by people.</p><p>Tonight, he would be meeting Sam Wilson. He took a deep breath, as he pushed the door. Several dining booths were occupied by people, chattering and eating their meals.</p><p>Even people gathered around the counter, with their fries and milkshakes. The restaurant captured this 1950's vibe with the checkered floor, and tiled brick walls.</p><p>Bucky found Natasha perched on a stool, already having a milkshake. Wilson sat on the chair, staring at his... was that a Van Gogh style of watch?</p><p>The bleary blue and yellow hues over the strap burst together, as if a miniature version of the painting with the café.</p><p>His attire consisted of a pastel mint green hooded sweatshirt, gray trousers and red converse sneakers. He looked like a college student, but his face told otherwise.</p><p>In other words; so damn stunning.</p><p>“There you are,” Natasha greeted, when he walked towards their seats. “Nice scruff.”</p><p>Bucky almost blushed. “Thanks.”</p><p>She darted a smirk, before returning her attention to her order.</p><p>"You've met Sam, last Monday, right?"</p><p>"Yeah, I did."</p><p>At that, the whiff of pleasant cologne filled his nose. Wilson also had this smell, he liked. Was it irises or magnolia, he had wondered.</p><p>“Hello, Barnes,” Wilson said, with a hand out.</p><p>“Hello, Wilson,” Bucky replied, shaking his hand. “I see, you're doing fine.”</p><p>The stiff clasp irked him, when their handshake finished. Maybe the feeling of dislike must be mutual, he guessed.</p><p>“I could say the same for you.” Wilson sat down on his seat again, as Bucky took the opposite side. “So, I managed to ask one of my friends to snag an invitation for the gala. But the bad news is that she only got one. And I can't do this mission without you.”</p><p>“Don't worry, I had it arranged,” Bucky said, getting an envelope from his pocket.</p><p>Wilson's eyes grew large. It appeared as dark as the sky outside, he noticed.</p><p>“Then we're all set?”</p><p>Bucky shook his head, reclining an arm over the edge of the booth.</p><p>“How we're gonna play the situation at hand? Are we colleagues of some sort?”</p><p>“Well, Nat has some ideas for our cover-up.”</p><p>“Indeed, I do.” Natasha picked up her milkshake —she still hasn't finished it? —, and leaned her against Wilson's side of the seat. “The both of you will be there to make an auction for the latest model of their smartwatch. It's pathetic, but trust me, you could blend in that way.”</p><p>Bucky slid a side-ways glance at her, then to the empty table.</p><p>“Who's going to pretend to bid? Is it me o...?”</p><p>“I'll do the bidding,” Wilson interjected. “I've had some experience in these types of events. I attended a few art shows, where I purchased paintings.”</p><p>Art show? Paintings? Bucky surveyed the other man. He didn't seem to fit the starving artist cliché. Or even a thriving one.</p><p>What sort of paintings? He wanted to ask, but he didn't want to go beyond professional. Establishing personal ties with Wilson might compromise their partnership.</p><p>The last thing he wanted was to f**k something up.</p><p>Wilson was better off, without knowing him. Besides, he wouldn't give someone like Bucky, the time of his day, if they weren't spies.</p><p>Brushing the self-pitying thoughts aside, Bucky folded his arms over his chest.</p><p>“I'm supposed to get close in contact with the suspects, figure out their next move, and we’ll report back to Miss O'Mahoney, right?” Bucky implored.</p><p>Wilson raised his brows, as if unware of him.</p><p>“Huh? Yeah, try finding our suspects. Why would they need a laser for?”</p><p>“To have power, of course,” Natasha supplied, sounding sardonic. “With that technology, everyone wants a piece of cake to take a taste of it.”</p><p>To Bucky's amusement, Sam pulled a face at her.</p><p>“You should improve your figures of speech and analogies, Nat. It's not a convincing visual.”</p><p>Natasha's face twisted with a scowl. “You try being imaginative with words, than with colors! At least, Bucky liked it. Don’t you?”</p><p>The silence creaked upon them, when Wilson tossed his hands up in the air.</p><p>“Hold on. <em>That's</em> Bucky?” Wilson asked, incredulously, while pointing at him. “The Bucky, you've been telling me for weeks? The Bucky who works over at the library? The Bucky, you know in college?”</p><p>Snorting, he propped an elbow on the table.</p><p>Natasha slowly nodded, probably taking in and enjoying the disbelief written all over Wilson. Damn it, he enjoyed the sight, too.</p><p>“Duh, even Janelle told me, she got you assigned with him.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Sam. I wanted you to meet him on Bowling Alley night, but you rain-checked on me. Again.”</p><p>For his part, Bucky had known nothing about Sam. Because he rarely saw the redhead, aside from her visiting the library, every once in a blue moon.</p><p>When they do have a conversation, she usually brought up her job, the antics of her beloved, frisky beagle (that damn thing terrified the hell out of Bucky), and their old spy days.</p><p>She used to be a spy, until she decided to work in the gym. For simple reasons, not tragic one. While Natasha had a hard life, she never stopped fighting for a better one.</p><p>She had a job with a heavy schedule, and she had been busy with Edire for the past ten weeks, too.</p><p>She never brought up about boys, because she didn't care about it. And to be honest, Bucky wished that he didn't too.</p><p>“C’mon, Nat.” Wilson nudged her elbow. “Some students need sessions with me, after academy hours.”</p><p>“Still surprised, you do overtime,” Natasha drawled. “Are you sure, it's not because you're hot?”</p><p>“No.” Sam's wide lips crumpled into a frown. “Sure, there are dozens of students think I am, and even the ones from theater, music, dance and acting come to the classroom to see me. But I don't think they want lessons, just to stare at my ass. I try hard not to encourage them.”</p><p>A puzzle jumbled in Bucky's mind with its scattered pieces. He had heard some school with those specific subjects, and Edrie studied there as an art...</p><p>Oh, f**k. Sam Wilson was Edrie's teacher! He worked in Ruston Academy, as an art teacher.</p><p>Dumbfounded, Bucky stood up from his seat.</p><p>“Alright, Wilson, I'll see you at Thursday," Bucky murmured, sliding off the booth. "I'm aware of what to do. Bye.”</p><p>Bucky's feet carried him off to the departing route, and he didn't spare another look at Natasha or his partner.</p><p>“What?” Wilson asked, perplexedly. “Oh, okay. See you later.”</p><p>With his breath in this throat, Bucky made it out. The information was hanging on his head, and he face-palmed. Edrie had asked him, if he could attend to one class with her in the school. He had accepted, and would be attending it… tomorrow.</p><p>If Wilson would be there, how would he act as if he didn’t know him? F**k.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you want to ramble with me, you can @enchanted-lightning-aes in tumblr!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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